


this exact moment could be something we can get back to

by jj_blues



Series: reversed [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Batkids Age Reversal, Brotherly Bonding, Coming Out, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dimension Travel, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Jason Todd is Red Robin, Jason Todd is Robin, Jon Kent is Flamebird, Language, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overthinking, Tim Drake is Red Hood, Tim Drake is Robin, Time Skips, Timeline What Timeline, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jj_blues/pseuds/jj_blues
Summary: Like any other family, the Waynes had their own set of problems to worry about. But that's okay. Sooner or later, they'll get through them.(A series of oneshots in the Reverse Robins universe.)I. Nine year-old Dick Grayson-Wayne pays Jon a visit in Blüdhaven.II. Jason comes out to his family.III. Tim learns how to be a good brother.IV. Jon finds himself in a world where he and Damian are still Robin and Superboy. Or something like that.V. Five moments when Damian realizes that he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life with Jon.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jonathan Kent, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: reversed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062551
Comments: 36
Kudos: 454





	1. Chapter 1

Jon had finished sliding the fried egg on top of the toast when his phone rang. He placed the pan on the sink, and zoomed over to the counter for his phone. Almost immediately, Damian's face appeared on the screen. "Beloved." 

Jon couldn't help but grin at the sight of his boyfriend. "Mornin', babe. Oh, uh. Wait a sec - " 

He zoomed back to grab his breakfast from the sink, and deposit it on the countertop beside his phone. After making himself comfortable on the barstool, he lifted his phone to face-level for a better view of his boyfriend. 

Jon recognized the couch Damian was lounging on as the one he helped picked out for Damian's private office at WE. He scrunched his nose. It wasn't even 7 AM yet, and his boyfriend already looked like a CEO from those romance novels Steph loved to talk about. "Please don't tell me you have a meeting scheduled. It's, like, 6:30, D. Betcha half the city's ain't even awake yet." 

In response, Damian heaved a sigh. He reached up to run a hand through his slicked-back hair. Not enough to mess up style; just enough for Jon to recognize it as a tell-tale sign of his boyfriend's irritation. "Tell that to the board. I have a meeting with them in about…fifteen minutes." 

"Huh." Jon's gaze darted to the smooth expanse of skin peeking out from beneath the collar of Damian's dress shirt. "Explains why you're dressed so nicely." 

"Eyes up here, beloved." 

_Dang_. He directed his gaze back to Damian's face. "You left those buttons unbuttoned on purpose." 

"And?" Damian shifted, giving Jon a view of his slender throat. "I thought you were used to it." 

The words made Jon scowl. All innapropriate ideas of what he could do to Damian if he was right there beside him instantly poured down the drain. "C'mon, D. You said you wouldn't bring it up - " 

"Did I?" The edges of Damian's mouth curled into a smirk. "My apologies, then." 

Jon rolled his eyes. The inside joke had gotten old years ago. It wasn't his fault the Gotham elite weren't open-minded enough to _not_ get offended over two guys kissing. It wasn't even a real kiss; he just gave Damian a quick peck on the cheek. But then the old lady had said some very unfriendly LGBTQ-related stuff - loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear - that Jon almost saw red. So he told her she'll have to do better with the insults because he was used to it, and proceeded to give Damian a very real kiss in front of the guests. Bruce later slipped Jon an additional glass of champage after the old lady stormed out of the hall. He winced at the memory. "I'm not really bothered by it, though. Just...embarrassed?" 

"Alright. I guess I won't bring it up if it embarrasses so much," Damian said. Jon cracked a smile. Rao, he missed his boyfriend. "By the way, beloved, what are you having for breakfast?" 

"Toast. And eggs." He let his phone lean against the vase, making sure Damian would still have a decent view of him as he started on his food. 

"Hm. Scrambled?" 

"Fried." Jon tore off the edge of the toast. He dipped it in the yolk, and popped it in his mouth. "What about you?" He swallowed. "What'd _you_ have for breakfast?" 

"Alfred made cauliflower risotto. Richard wanted cereal, but I managed to convince him it isn't such a decent meal as the commercials make it out to be." 

Jon bit back a laugh. Seriously, why did his boyfriend have to be so goshdarn _perfect_? He's handsome, clever, and funny when the situation called for it. It's like he was built to be a freakin' perfect human being - oh wait, he was. And he _was_ perfect. Almost perfect, in Jon's eyes. Damian had grown from the assassin with zero social skills, to an empathetic person, a good son, a better brother, and the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. Dang, how did Jon get so lucky? 

Damian's expression softened, as if reading his thoughts. "Do you know how much I miss you right now, beloved?" 

Oh, Rao. Until a week ago, Jon had spent his nights at the Manor after patrol, and flew to Blüdhaven for work. That was before they realized the arrangement wasn't viable long-term - Jon wasn't full-Kryptonian like his father; sooner or later, the constant back-and-forth travel would take a toll on his health. Damian suggested it'd be better for Jon to stay in Blüdhaven for the remainder of the month...which led to their current situation. It wasn't really a great idea, but it was the best they could think of, and they had agreed to come up with another plan once Tim returned from his off-world mission. 

Jon mustered a weak smile. "I miss you, too, D." He ignored the ache in his chest when Damian hesitantly smiled back. "Now go, or you'll be late for your meeting. I'll call you later, okay?" 

"Okay." Damian paused. He fiddled with the collar of his dress shirt. "You better get ready, too." 

"Yeah. I know." Jon reached for his toast. "Gotta finish my breakfast first. Don't forget to say hello to Dick for me. Love you, babe." 

Damian nodded. "I will. I love you, too, Jonathan." 

_ 

"Have you had lunch yet?" 

Jon moved his half-finished rice bowl into the camera's line of sight. Then he stared at the screen with his best puppy-dog eyes. "It really ain't as good without you here, babe." 

"Has anyone ever told you how much of a sap you are?" 

"You did," he pointed out, straightening up. "But you love my sappiness, don't you?" He waggled his eyebrows. 

Damian made a show of massaging his temples. "Unfortunately, I do." 

"I knew it!" He fist-pumped the air. "So, what did you have for lunch?" 

Damian looked faintly amused, probably because of the fist-pump. He was doing this cute thing where he seemed to be biting back a smile, but wasn't entirely succeeding. Jon resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. 

"...beloved? Are you listening to me?" 

Damian's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

Warmth rose to Jon's cheeks. He reached up to rub the back of his neck. "Sorry, D. Uh, I didn't catch what you said." 

"Figured." His boyfriend rolled his eyes, but Jon could tell it was more out of fondness than actual annoyance. "I said, I had a lettuce wrap. So, what were you thinking about?" 

Sometimes, it still amazed Jon how Damian could read him so well. "Wasn't really much. I was just thinkin' 'bout how cute you are." 

"Liar." 

See? Though, he supposed it's only normal. They _have_ been best friends for more than a decade. And now that they're together... Jon smiled to himself. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't read Damian just as well as Damian could read him. He grabbed his fork, and started on his half-forgotten ricebowl again. "Okay, if you really wanna know, I was thinking about the thing you do when you're feeling amused but, like, don't wanna admit it. How you're biting back a smile? 'Cause it's cute." 

"I'm not cute, Jon." Damian spat out _cute_ like it was an offensive word. 

"You are, too." 

"No." Damian shook his head. "I'm not. _You're_ cute. And finish your lunch." 

Jon mock-gasped. He stared at his boyfriend with wide eyes. "Oh my god. _Oh my god._ Did I hear that right? Did Damian Wayne just call me cute?" 

Damian gave another fond-eye roll. "You're my boyfriend, Kent. Of course I'd compliment you. And I know you heard what I said. You have superhearing." 

Jon grabbed his phone. "Can you call me cute again? So I can have the motivation to finish my lunch?" 

"Your sappiness astounds me," Damian replied in a dry voice. Like, almost-drier-than-the-Sahara  
-desert kind of dry voice. Yeah, his boyfriend was an expert at dryness. Probably learned the art from Alfred. 

"And yet you still love my sappiness." 

"Yes, beloved. We've already established it. Now finish your lunch. Your lunchbreak's almost over." 

Jon pouted. He prodded at the chicken slices. Rao, the food really doesn't taste as good without Damian. "I miss having lunch with you." 

He heard his boyfriend's sharp intake of breath. "I…I missed having lunch with you, too." 

He couldn't say he hadn't entertained the idea of surprising Damian during his lunchbreak. Problem is, Flamebird's presence in Gotham - especially in broad daylight - would stir up the rumors again. Damian hadn't lifted the no-meta rule to keep up with appearances, and Gothamites weren't exactly the most friendly towards metas. Joining Damian for lunch would be more trouble than it was worth. 

So yeah, they settled for video calls instead. Jon tried not to let it get to him. He'd see his boyfriend in three days, anyway. 

_

Jon wanted to fume. They had agreed on the arrangement. He just didn't understand why Damian couldn't have bothered to stick with the original plan. The original plan _he_ suggested! Seriously. 

"...told you, I had contacted Stephanie, and Jason to take care of Gotham in my absence. Lucius will handle WE. I have everything taken care of, beloved." 

"D, _c'mon_." He shifted the phone to this other ear to push open the door to the lobby. "We'd see each other in three days, anyway. And did you even tell the board of your decision?" 

He could hear Damian roll his eyes from the other end of the line. "What is it with you, and your fixation on my board of directors, Jonathan? They can file their complaints to Lucius. I will be returning to my apartment tonight, and they won't be able to stop me." 

"Okay, okay." Rao, Damian could sound so hot when bossy. "Is Dick coming with, or will he be staying at the Manor?" 

"...I believe he's currently in our apartment, beloved." 

_"What?"_ Jon stopped dead. "Dami, for cryin' out loud, he's nine! You're sayin' he communted all the way from Gotham to Blüdhaven?" 

The receptionist looked up from her paperwork. Jon gave her his best 'everything's perfectly fine' smile, before hurrying up the stairs. 

"It's not even an hour-long trip, Jon. And he's going to be ten in four months." 

"Doesn't count, D," he protested. Within seconds, he'd reached their floor. He used his free hand to fish the key from his pocket. "'M here now. I'll send you a text, okay? Love you, bye." He ended the call, and stepped inside the apartment, closing the door behind him. 

"Dick?" He deposited his bag at the foot of the couch. "Dickie? Lil' D?" 

"Jon!" A black and blue blur appeared in his peripheral. "You're here!" 

Jon grunted, suddenly founding himself with an armful of excitement personified. 

"J, I missed you!" Dick pulled away to look up at him with big, blue eyes, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Rao, this kid was gonna grow up to be a real charmer one day. "You never visited us! You said you were gonna, remember?" 

"Sorry." He managed a sheepish smile. "The paper's bein' a real pain in the butt." Lame excuse, but true. He barely even had the time to meet the deadlines. "How're you holding up, kiddo?" 

"'M fine. Glad I'm gonna stay here for a while. Kinda lonely being in the Manor without Jay." 

Jon's eyes widened. His heart leapt to his throat. "Where is he? Is he okay?" 

Dick nodded, unconcerned with Jon's sudden moment of mental panic. "Yeah. But he's been staying with the Titans since...Sunday, I think?" 

Jon couldn't help but frown at Dick's answer. It wasn't really fair of Jason to - well, seek refuge in the Tower instead of remaining at the Manor, but it's not like he could blame him. People had different coping mechanisms. He knew that. Even so, it still didn't help settle the uncomfortable feeling in his chest _because what about Dick?_ Shouldn't Jason have stayed for his little brother, at least? 

Jon shook his head. He started rubbing light circles on the small of Dick's back. "I'm sorry." 

"No, it's okay," Dick said. "I kinda understand. I mean, he's called us every night. And I know he doesn't say it, but I think the reason why he doesn't wanna stay in the Manor is because it reminds him of Bruce." 

"Oh, Dickie." Jon pulled the kid closer to himself. "I'm so sorry." 

"But he's okay, though. He said he's okay, and I believe him." 

Jon chewed on his bottom lip as he continued to rub circles on the small of the kid's back. Suddenly, an idea hit him. He knelt down until he was face-level with Dick. "Tell you what." He lifted a hand to push the kid's fringe away from his face. "I bought the new Marvel game the other day." 

Dick's eyes lit up. "Marvel's Avengers? Wally's been talkin' about it for months!" 

They spent the next ten minutes having fun with the customizations, but Jon could tell Dick's heart wasn't really in the game. After another five minutes, Dick put down his console. "I miss him, J." 

Jon paused the game. "D'you want me to call Dami?" 

"No. I... I miss _Bruce_." Dick snifled, like he was on the verge of tears. 

Jon's heart sank. Rao. He set down his console on the arm of the couch, and scooted towards Dick to wrap an arm around his shoulder. "I know, kiddo. Me, too. I miss him, too." 

Dick leaned against his side. Jon tuned in his hearing to the gentle rhythm of Dick's heartbeat. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Dick turned to press his face against his chest. "You're warm." 

Jon resisted the urge to laugh. Rao, Dick was _so_ adorable. With his free hand, he reached up to run his fingers through the kid's disheveled hair. "Is this okay?" 

"Mm-hm." Dick yawned. He snuggled deeper against Jon. 

Jon stopped running his hand through the kid's hair. "You tired already?" 

"Yeah." 

"Want me to stay with you in your room?" 

"Don't wanna sleep in the room." Rao, is it bad Jon can _hear_ the pout in his voice? Because Jon can hear the pout in his voice. "Can I sleep on the couch with you?" 

"Sure," he replied, without hesitation. 

"Thanks, J." 

They lapsed into another comfortable silence. Jon started to run his fingers through Dick's hair again. 

"Hey, J?" Dick shifted closer. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Shoot." 

"Have you ever wanted to live a normal life? Like, no powers, and stuff? Is it okay with you?" 

Jon blinked. "Honestly? I've thought about it a couple of times, but... I don't think I'd want to. I wouldn't be able to be as efficient - effective, I mean - " he amended, at Dick's furrowed brow " - in helping people without my powers. And I can't ever imagine myself _not_ helping. Because that's what good people do. They get involved. Dad always said so." 

"Woah." Damian lifted his head from his chest to stare. "Superman really said that?" 

His awed expression almost made Jon want to pinch his cheeks. His boyfriend's baby brother was _so cute_ , dang it. "Uh-huh." 

"I wanna be like Superman!" Dick said, all traces of sleepiness gone from his voice. "He's the strongest hero _ever_. Plus, I'll train every day, so I can also be strong like you, and Dami, and Timmy, and Jay, and Alfie, and Steph, and Bruce!" 

"You're already strong," Jon blurted out before he could stop himself. Aw, shit. His heart squeezed. _Here we go._ He swallowed, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. "In fact...you're one of the strongest people I've ever known. Even stronger than me." 

Because he's seen what the tabloids had published after Dick's adoption. Heard what the Gotham elite whispered during galas. About Dick's heritage. How he was a _gypsy_ , a _thief_ who was only after the Wayne fortune. It had always enraged Jon because _how dare they._ Dick was a _child_. He'd already been through enough. He shouldn't have to be hurt by selfish people who don't know crap. 

"But... But you're Flamebird!" Jon forced himself to focus his attention back to Dick, whose impossibly blue eyes had gone wide. "How can I be stronger than you?" 

Jon smiled. "You're strong because you've survived a lot of things, kiddo. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise." 

_

The soft click of the lock roused Jon from his sleep. He opened his eyes to see Damian close the door behind him. 

Jon managed a tired grin. "Hey, Dami."

Damian deposited his bag on the coffee table. "Beloved." He leant down to press his lips to the side of Jon's mouth. "How's Richard?"

"Mm-hm." Jon lifted his free hand to run his thumb across Damian's cheek. "Join us?"

A brief smirk flickered across his boyfriend's face. Jon's breath caught in his throat. Rao, his boyfriend was so handsome. "Do I have a choice?"

"Uh." Jon blinked, caught off-guard at the question. "No?"

"Fair enough." Damian shrugged off his jacket, and plopped down on Jon's other side. 

Pushing all inappropriate thoughts of his boyfriend out of his mind, Jon reached up to wrap his arm around Damian's shoulders, careful not to move too much, or else he might accidentally jostle Dick. "He's okay, if you wanna know. We played the new Avengers game. It was fun. And...I'm sorry for blowin' up on you earlier." Damian gave an affirmative hum as he laid his head on the crook of his neck. "He's a pretty awesome kid. Can we adopt him?"

Jon didn't miss the way Damian's heart skipped a beat. "I... I'm not sure it'd be a good idea, beloved."

"What? Why?"

"Can you imagine us as parents?"

And yeah, Jon had to bite back a laugh. Damian _did_ have a point. They'd have to make some pretty huge adjustments if they would adopt Dick. "But that's not a no, right?"

He could feel Damian's smile against his skin. "We'll talk about it in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Pride Month.

"What are you doing here?"

He stopped cooing at the beagle to look at Damian. "Can't I just pay my favorite brother a visit?"

"Hm." Damian slipped off his lab coat to slide it inside his bag. "I thought Richard was your favorite brother?"

Jason gave the beagle one last scratch behind the ear, before standing up. "Well, you're my favorite brother today. Plus, I kinda wanna tell you something in person."

"Must be pretty important if you chose to drop by instead of sending me a text."

"Yeah." He shoved his hands inside the pocket of his jeans. "So anyway, I...um -"

Someone knocked on the door. Jason turned at the sound. "Hey, Dames. Do you want to -" the woman paused. She squinted at Jason. "Hi. Are you a costumer?"

"He's my younger brother," Damian said. "Jason, meet is Jenny, one of our new technicians. Jenny, Jason."

The woman, Jenny, grinned. She kinda reminded him of Cass. Maybe it was the hair. Or the ear piercings. Or the black crop top, and dark jeans under her lab coat. "Our shift's over in five minutes. D'you two want to some grab ice cream with me? There's an ice cream shop down the street I want to try."

Jason grinned back. "As long as Dami's paying."

Jenny laughed. "I like you, kid. Just let me grab my things, and we're good to go."

They agreed to wait for Jenny at the lobby. Jason shifted a bit to make himself more comfortable on the hard-ass bench. He glanced at Damian, who was busy on his phone. He reached over to poke his brother's arm. "Where's Jon?"

"Abroad," Damian said, not looking up from his phone.

"Gotcha." _Abroad_ was their code for international League-related missions. Jason didn't have to guess Damian was currently messaging Jon. They were sappy like that. He debated whether to grab his own phone from his pocket when Jenny appeared, backpack slung over her shoulder. 

"Hey." She hoisted her backpack higher over her shoulder. "You guys ready?"

And they ended up talking the whole way to the shop until the server had delivered their orders. He answered her questions as best as he could. Some were about his school life, interests, and hobbies. Most were about Damian. Which was...weird. Unless she was interested in - 

Holy _fuck._

Jason shook his head to clear away the thought. Nah, he was probably imagining it. Overthinking. Yeah. "Thanks, Dami." He pulled his sundae closer to himself. "You're the best."

"You're only saying that because Richard isn't here." Aaand Damian was still on his phone. Jesus, didn't Ra's teach him it's rude to be on your phone when conversing with other people? 

"Who's Richard?" Jenny asked. 

"My younger brother," Damian said. 

"You never mentioned you had another brother, Dames."

"He has three. Me, Dickie, and - uh. Cass. But she's a girl. And she's in Hong Kong. So it's actually two brothers, and a sister." Jason inwardly cursed. What the hell was wrong with him? He almost told her about Tim! He's never slipped up before. Fuck, maybe coming here was a bad idea. He should've just sent Dami a quick text.

"You're still at school, aren't you, kiddo?" 

"What?" He blinked. His cheeks heated up. He quickly shoved a spoonful of ice cream inside his mouth. "Uh, yeah." He swallowed. "Yeah, I am. I'm a freshman at Gotham U." 

"Major?" Jenny sipped at her milkshake.

"English Lit. You?"

"It was a veterinary technology program in Arizona. What about you, Dames?" Jenny leaned forward.

Jason set down his spoon. "I'm gonna have a smoke. D, d'you wanna come with?"

Damian looked up from his phone. "Alright. Jenny, can you excuse us for a moment?"

"Sure." 

Jason pretended not to notice his brother staring at him as they walked out of the parlor. He leaned against a lampost, reaching into his pocket to pull out his own phone - 

"Jason." He froze at the authority in Damian's voice. "What's the matter? I know you don't smoke. Is this about the thing you want to tell me?" 

Jason furrowed his brow. The thing - ? What the hell was Damian...? His eyes widened. Fuck. How could he forget? He was _supposed_ to tell Damian. It's why he came to Blüdhaven in the first place. But...this was more important. Yep. Far more important. "Actually, it's something else." He bit his lip. "I think Jenny likes you."

"I'm her co-worker."

"No, I mean she wants to _date_ you. Or something. I dunno. It's just." He shrugged. "The way she kept on looking at you earlier. Like - well, she's definitely into you."

Damian pressed his mouth into a thin line. "She's not."

 _Holy mother of -_ Jason resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Please don't tell me you never realized it." 

"I never realized it because she doesn't like me that way." 

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. Believe what you wanna believe, but I'm putting a stop to it before it gets worse." 

Muttering under his breath about Damian's denseness because _God_ is he dense, how could he be so fucking dense, he stomped back inside. 

"Hey, Jenny. Sorry to keep ya waiting," he said. He slid down his seat, and grabbed his spoon. He prodded at his half-melted ice cream. Damn. He looked at Jenny, and was suprised to see she'd already finished her milkshake. "Uh, okay." He forced a grin. "So, do you like to travel?" 

"I've been around," she replied. "You?" 

"Same." He another spoonful of ice cream inside his mouth. "Bruce usually takes us on vacation during the summer." 

Jenny's eyes widened. "Damn, I forgot you're Bruce Wayne's sons." 

"What are we talking about?" 

Jason almost jumped at Damian's voice. "Vacations? We're talkin' about vacations. I asked Jenny if she likes to travel, and I mentioned our family vacations. Wait." He nudged his brother's arm. "Can you bring Jon along next time? He _never_ goes on vacations with us." 

"Jon?" Jenny sounded confused. 

"Yeah. He's Dami's boyfriend." Jason narrowed his gaze. "Got any problem with that? 'Cause if you do, you'll have to answer to me." 

"No!" Jenny exclaimed. He raised a brow at her reaction. "I mean, I'm pretty sure both of my dads would be disappointed if I'd have a problem with it, so...yeah." She gave a half-shrug. "It's cool." 

He blinked. Wait a second. _Did she just...?_ "Did you just say - like, both of your dads?" 

"Uh-huh." She straightened up. "Why? You got a problem, kid?" 

Damian hid his laugh behind a cough. Jason glared at him, then turned his attention back to Jenny. "Nah, it's cool." 

"Really? 'Cause I could've sworn - " Jenny paused. Then she pulled out her phone. Suddenly, the color seemed to drain from her face. "Fuck. I, um. My dad - well, one of them - is having trouble with - something." She stood up, grabbing her bag. "I'm really sorry, but I have to go. Thanks for the ice cream, Damian. See you around, Jay." 

"See ya," he said. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jenny," Damian said. 

Jenny waved good-bye. Jason watched her bolt out of the glass doors. 

"So, what was the thing you wanted to tell me?" 

He stiffened. Fuck. _Fuck._ He couldn't lose his nerve now. He was better than this. He was Robin, for fuck's sake. 

"I'm bi," he blurted out. 

Damian blinked. "Okay. Thank you. For telling me. Now finish your ice cream, it's already melting." 

Jason let his shoulders sag in relief. Yeah, he wasn't even sure why he expected anything else when Damian literally had a boyfriend. 

_ 

Ever since The Great Broos Search, Fridays had sorta become their thing - so long as Tim wasn't on a case, and Jason had finished his homework. Plus, Timmy was actually very cool. Like, Damian-level kind of cool. (Okay, Jason knew Tim had always been cool, but still.) When he was in a very good mood, he told him stories about his brief stint in the League of Assassins, his various missions with his Outlaws, and sometimes the cases he'd worked on during his run as Robin. 

It just so happened that Tim was in a very good mood today. 

"…turns out Damian wasn't the Nightwing in that world." 

Jason's eyes widened. "What? But if it wasn't Dami, then who was it?" 

The corners of Tim's mouth lifted into a smirk. "Believe it or not, it was Dickiebird." 

"What?!" Jason could feel his jaw drop at the information. Dickie, his little brother, was Nightwing? "No way. Are you _sure_ it was Dick?" 

Tim leaned back against the couch. "Deadass." 

Jason stared, open-mouthed, at Tim. What the hell. Jesus Christ, he couldn't even imagine Dick as a teenager in this world, and he was already, like, twenty-something in another world? _And_ he was raising Dami, who was only ten years old? Jesus freakin' Christ. 

"And that's not even the best part," Tim said. Jason didn't miss the obvious glee in his voice. "In the other world, _I_ was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Like, what the fuck. Can you imagine it? Me? The CEO of WE? Rao. I'm pretty sure Dami would rather shrivel up and die than hand over the position." 

Jason snapped his mouth shut. He rolled his eyes. "You're exaggerating, Timmy. Dames had been the CEO once. And he wasn't exactly having the time of his life." 

"Okay, yeah." Tim nodded. "You told me about that. So back to the story - " 

"Wait." Jason held up a hand. Tim glared at him. He ignored it. "I just remembered. Was Jon also there?" 

"No. I don't know. Maybe. But I didn't meet him, and they didn't mention anything about him. Maybe he was there. I'm not sure. _Anyway_ , the older Dick introduced me to the rest of the family, then said he's gotta run because he was meeting his boyfriend - " 

Jason almost spat out his soda. "What?!" 

"Yeah, it was a shock for me, too. Like, Dickie's not even fifteen here - " 

But Jason's throat had gone dry. He set down the can on the countertop, hoping Tim wouldn't notice his hands shake. His heartbeat continued to pound in his ears. Dick was gay? Wait, no. The other Dick was gay? But he's still Dick, isn't he? So Dick's gay. No, he might be bi. Or pan. But the point is he has a boyfriend. He likes guys. His brothers like guys. _Jesus._ Jason closed his eyes. Fuck. He has to calm down. He'd already told Dami. Dami didn't make a big deal out of it. Tim wouldn't make a big deal out of it, too, right? As far as Jason was concerned, Tim wasn't homophobic. Right? 

"Jay? Hey, look at me. What's wrong?" Tim's voice had softened to the tone Jason vaguely recognized as the one his brother used around scared civilians. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and forced himself to look at Tim. "I'm bi." 

"Oh." Tim blinked. "Huh. That's cool. I'm ace." 

The air seemed to return to Jason's lungs. He'd done his fair share of research. Read about the different sexual orientations on the internet. He's familiar with asexuality. "I…wow." 

"I know." To Jason's surprise, Tim reached forward ruffle his hair. "Means you get to join the Not-Straight Robins club. Congratulations. So, do you still wanna hear the rest of the story, or d'you wanna grab take-out, and paint each other's nails afterwards? 'Cause I think Cassie left a bottle of nail polish last week - I'm joking!" he added. 

Jason couldn't help but laugh. Holy shit, Dick was right. Tim _did_ have a sense of humor. "And if I wanna go with the second option?" 

"Sure," Tim said without hesitation. Jason stared at him. "Hey, even Conner admitted my nail art designs are awesome." 

_ 

The loud knock on the door made Jason look up from his homework. He turned around. "Dickie? Something wrong?"

"Hi, Jay." Dick fiddled with the sleeve of his oversized hoodie. Jason almost cooed at the sight. "I'm bored. Can I play on your phone?"

Jason squinted at his brother. "Are you done with your homework?"

"Yep!" Dick nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Goddamit he was _so_ cute. 

Without a second thought, Jason held out his phone. Besides, he still had to finish his essay. It's better he didn't have his phone to distract him. "Here you go, Dickie." 

"Thanks, Jay!" Dick smiled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. 

Jason couldn't help but grin back at the human-sized cuteness that was his brother. Now for his essay - 

_Act I of Othello shows the exposition... argument between Iago and Roderigo..._

_Iago gets Cassio drunk in…_ which Act was it in again? Whatever. _But it helps…develop the rising action -_

"Jay? Who's this?" 

He jolted at the voice. "Hmm?" He placed down his pen to look at Dick. "What do you -"

Jason almost recoiled as his brother shoved his phone in front of his face. He tugged his phone from Dick's grip, furrowing his eyebrows at the image of him, and Artemis in their civies, arms around each other. He'd almost forgot Bizarro had asked him to change his background on his phone. "That's Artemis." 

"Oh." Dick's eyes widened. "So _she's_ Artemis." He paused. "Is she your girlfriend?" 

"No." Jason pulled Dick to his lap. "She ain't my girlfriend." 

Dick swiveled around to stare at him. "Why? You like her, don't you? Then she should be your girlfriend." 

Jason almost laughed at the obvious confusion in his brother's voice. "She's cool, but I like Kyle more," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

Dick furrowed his brow. "So Kyle's your boyfriend?" 

He snorted. "I wish." 

"Well, he should be." Dick leaned against his chest. "'Cause you like him." 

Jason sighed as he rested his chin on top Dick's head. "If only it were that easy, Dickiebird." 

_ 

Okay. He could do this. He already told his brothers, so he had to tell Bruce, too. Besides, it's not like Bruce would kick him out. He knew Bruce wouldn't kick him out. Tim said Dami was with Jon when he was sixteen, and Bruce hadn't kicked _him_ out. Which was...yeah. Okay. He could do this. He was gonna tell Bruce. 

Ignoring the way his heart pounded so hard against his ribcage that he could literally heart it in his ears, Jason raised a fist, and knocked on the door of Bruce's study. 

"Come in," Bruce's voice said. 

Heartbeat still echoing in his ears, he dragged his feet towards Bruce's desk. "Um, hi. Can I…" His throat closed up. Fuck. He swallowed. He looked at his dad. "Hiya." 

Bruce had a puzzled look on his face. "Hi to you, too. What's wrong? Did Dick accidentally break the chandelier again?" 

Despite his nervousness, Jason couldn't help but laugh. "Nah. I just…um. _IjustwannaletyouknowI'mbi_." 

"Oh." The puzzled look on Bruce's face vanished. Before Jason could say something stupid like take back the confession, Bruce had rose to his feet, padded around the desk, and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for telling me, Jaybird. I appreciate it." 

_ 

He almost groaned at the taste of the chocolate chips, and the chewy dough. God, Alfred's cookies were to die for. He shoved the whole thing in his mouth, reached for another piece - 

"I suggest you slow down a bit, Master Jason." 

His eyes widened as Alfred placed a glass of milk on the countertop. Grinning inwardly, he grabbed the glass. He downed its contents in one go, then set it back down on the counter. "Thanks, Alfred. You're the best." 

"Thank you." 

"So, uh." Jason made a grab for his second cookie. "Remember the thing I told you about? How I was gonna tell 'em? Well, I did. I told Dami, Timmy, and Dickiebird this week. And I told Bruce. Earlier." He stopped at the warm palm on his shoulder. He turned his head to look up at Alfred, and was surprised to see the slight glistening of tears in the butler's eyes. 

"I'm _so_ proud of you, Master Jason." 

_ 

Obviously it wouldn't be noisy here. He couldn't remember a time it had ever been noisy. A part of him was thankful, since he was never really a fan of noisy places. Must be a side-effect of Willis' drunken antics. Thank God the bastard was in prison now. He deserved it. 

Biting back a smirk at the thought, Jason knelt down the grass, and leaned forward to place the chrysanthemums in front of the gravestone. "Hey, Mom. So I know I haven't visited in forever, but there's something I wanna tell you..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Tim's birthday.

He strolled down the alley, careful to keep his footsteps light. 

Since Bruce had allowed Damian, and Jon to take over the case, it left patrol duty to him, because Bruce was too busy with Jason whom he had benched in the first place. Not like he wanted to spend more time with the new Boy Wonder anyway; Jason seemed to be under the impression they were friends after Tim had let him tag along on _one_ mission - 

He stopped at the sound of male voices a few feet away. Narrowed his eyes at the emblem stitched on the back of the leather jackets. What the hell were Toni Li's men doing in Batman's territory? 

Grabbing his pistol, he stepped out of the shadows, and cleared his throat. 

"Red Hood," the nearest thug breathed. "We didn't - we were just..." 

Tim raised his pistol. He fired. 

The thugs scampered out of the alley. Satisfied, he slipped the pistol back into its holster. 

"Red Hood." He looked up. Jon landed on the ground, golden cape flaring behind him. "We need to talk." 

"Did Nightwing put you up to this?" he asked, making sure to inject a huge amount of venom into his voice at the mention of his older brother's name. 

To his credit, Jon didn't flinch. Rao, Tim wished he'd brought his case of kryptonite-infused bullets along. "No, I came of my own accord." 

"Why? Did my little trick scare you? I was just protecting the streets like Batman told me to." 

Jon's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Tim." 

Tim let his hand rest on the rear sight of his gun. Sure, it wouldn't be of any use against a half-Kryptonian, but it was the threat that counted. "No names in the field, Flamebird. Go back to your partner. You aren't wanted here." The 'and don't return unless you want to get shot' hung in the air. 

Without another word, Jon turned on his heel, and took off. Tim waited until he was out of sight before letting his hand drop to his side. Good. 

A split-second later, another figure landed in front of Tim. A familiar figure reminiscent of a traffic light, and a mantle stolen twice over. "Red Hood." 

Tim stared back into the lenses of Jason's black domino mask. "Robin. Does Batman know you've disobeyed his orders?" 

"You weren't answering yer comms," Jason blurted out in his unmistakable Lower Gotham-accented drawl. Seemed like Alfred hadn't managed to train it out of him yet. "B kept blabberin' 'bout the no-guns policy in his territory - " 

"I'll follow his policy when Nightwing stops using his katana. Damn hypocrite." 

Jason fell quiet. He bit his lip, and swallowed. "Yeah, okay. I get it. You don't like Dad 'cause ya think he doesn't care 'nough to kill the Joker for you. But you're wrong." He stepped forward, gloved hands clenching into fists. "B does care. Cares more than my ol' man, I tell ya. He just has the stupid no-kill rule. 'Sides, Dami said... Dami said he grieved for ya at yer funeral." 

Tim almost scoffed. "Look, kid, if I were you, I'd stop sticking my nose into other people's business. It's rude, plus, it could get you killed one day. Trust me." 

"I'm a detective, Rob - Red Hood. Stickin' my nose into other people's business is literally my job. And I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself." 

This time, Tim really did scoff. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

Because while Jason picked up on things faster than the average Gothamite, he still hadn't managed to put the pieces together. Tim's brief mass-murderer stint? 30% Pit Madness, 20% need to cleanse Gotham, 10% anger at Jason, and 40% to get back at Damian. Jason earned Damian's approval without even trying, and Damian had only let him because he felt guilty for Tim's death. 

As far as Tim was concerned, nobody else realized Bruce had never been in the equation. Not Jon, not Steph, and definitely not Jason. Just Damian. 

And he planned to keep it that way. 

"What's wrong with you?" Jason asked. A muscle had twitched in his jaw. "You weren't like this before." 

"Pretty sure I wasn't beaten to death and dumped into the Pit before, too, so." Tim smirked behind his helmet at the joke. "Now run along, Robin. Your family's waiting for you back at the Manor." 

_ 

He stopped at the sight of Jason hunched on the foot of the steps. "What are you doing here?" 

Jason set down his phone. "Nothing." He stood up. Tim watched him slip his phone back inside his utility belt. "I was gonna leave anyway." 

Christ, Tim didn't have time for this. Where was Damian when he actually needed him? "Robin." Jason stopped in his tracks. He reached up to unclasp his helmet. He had a feeling he knew the reason why Jason dropped by tonight. "Just come inside." 

Jason didn't protest as Tim unlocked the door. He deposited his gear, and helmet on the coffee table. "Kon has a spare shirt in the top drawer of my closet. Meet me at the kitchen when you're done." 

"Gotcha." 

Tim decided not to comment on the dark bags under Jason's eyes. Instead, he gave a curt nod in his direction, and proceeded to trudge towards the kitchen. He plugged in the electric kettle, and grabbed the cocoa powder, the marshmallows, and a mug from the shelf. He'd just finished putting the marshmallows on the mug when his phone pinged. 

**Damian**  
Is Jason with you?

**Tim**  
Yeah

**Damian**  
Good. I'll inform Richard, and Alfred. 

He looked up at the sound of footsteps.

“Hey.” Jason perched himself on the barstool. As expected, Conner’s shirt hung off his frame, but Tim’s old pants fit him fine. At least he didn’t look like some half-starved teenager now, unlike the last time Tim saw him in civvies. Alfred did a good job feeding him.

Tim set down the mug on the counter, and slid it towards Jason. “Here.” 

A grateful grin flickered across Jason's lips. “Thanks. How was your mission?”

“The usual. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I might’ve accidentally convinced Conner to throw their superior's right-hand man into the moon. They quickly shut up after that.” Tim smirked at the memory. “What about you? How was patrol with Damian?”

“Still getting used to it. He’s not as strict as – y’know, but he wouldn’t let me scout the warehouse by myself, either. But we went out for burgers, so it wasn’t all bad,” Jason said. He sipped at his drink. “I miss him. It’s not the same.”

Tim bit the inside of his cheek. Rao, where was Steph when he needed her? He’s not good at comforting people. He was already bad at empathetic crap when he was younger, but then Ra’s just had to dump him in the damned Pit…

Okay. He just had to suck it up, and try his best to comfort Jason. Not like he had any other choice. 

He returned his attention to the kid. "I know it's not the same without...Bruce, but look at the bright side - Damian apparently makes a half-decent Batman. And he buys you food so you don't have to sneak some in your utility belt. Bruce doesn't really encourage us to eat on patrol, remember?" 

Jason snorted. “You’re shit at comforting people.”

Tim had to crack a smile. The tension seemed to ease a bit. “I’ve always been shit at comforting people. My little swim didn't help. Pro tip: Lazarus Pits are cool for the whole regeneration thing, but the side-effects aren't worth it."

"Explains why Ra's is fucked in the head."

"Bart's been helping me, though," he offered. For a split-second, he debated whether to tell Jason about - ah, screw it. "He wants me to have a better grasp of my emotions again."

“Tell him it’s not working.” 

“Rude.”

Jason popped a marshmallow into his mouth. “Like you're not," he said. Tim barely managed to stop himself from making a face at the sight of the half-chewed marshmallow in Jason's mouth. Hadn't Catherine lectured the kid about basic manners? "Dami told me about the time you insulted Scarecrow to his face. It was a good comeback, but not as cool as mine." 

Tim rolled his eyes. "Disrespectful brat. My comeback was awesome; Damian's just full of shit. And don't talk when your mouth's full. I thought Catherine taught you better than that." 

Jason swallowed. He looked indignant, though Tim wasn't sure if it was because of the 'brat' comment, or the latter. "I'm only two years younger than you!" 

"Three." The 'brat' comment, then. 

"Fuck off!" 

"That's your awesome comeback?" Tim teased. "Seriously? I mean, I hadn't really expected much, but you still disappointed me." He clicked his tongue. "I can't believe this." 

"Again, fuck off," Jason replied, but the words held no bite to them. "Anyway, _I_ can't believe it took Dad dying for us to have a somewhat decent conversation. Like, how fucked up is that?" 

"In our line of work?" Tim pretended to think about it. "Not so much." 

Jason rolled his eyes as he took another sip. "Fine, Mr Expert." 

"Jay, you've been involved with the family business since you were - what? Twelve? You're as much of an expert as I am," he said dryly. 

Jason burst into laughter. "Family business? What the fuck? I've never even thought about..." 

"Blame the first Boy Wonder. Or Bruce. It was their idea." An idea which eventually got him killed in the field. But he really didn't have anyone to blame but himself. Damian never convinced Bruce to take Tim in as his Robin. Bruce didn't even want to make him Robin until Tim convinced him to. It was all his idea. 

Jason stopped laughing. He straightened up, and took a deep breath. “You know he doesn’t actually hate you, right?” 

Tim furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, since he apologized to me earlier this month, I like to think the years he’d spent with Jon had finally helped him get his head out of his ass.”

“Dami's getting better now," Jason muttered. He tapped his fingers on the side of his mug. "Dickie said so. But I wasn’t talking about him." A prickle of discomfort settled in the bottom of Tim's stomach. “I was actually talking about Dad.” 

Yeah, he should’ve totally seen this coming. It’s a conversation long overdue.

“I know you don’t like him,” Jason continued, and he didn’t miss the nervous edge in the kid's voice, like he was afraid Tim’s gonna blow up at him for mentioning Bruce, “but he’s not here anymore, and I feel like it ain’t fair if you keep holding on to grudges - “

Damn, when did Robin become so insightful? He must've been spending a lot of time with Steph. “Jason, look. I don’t hate Bruce.” He held up a hand when Jason looked like he was about to protest. “I know we didn’t always agree on everything, but I didn’t hate him.”

_I never hated him, but you don’t need to know that._

“But…” 

“I didn’t hate him,” he repeated. “Thought you might’ve already figured it out by yourself. You’re a pretty good detective when you want to be." 

Jason blinked, like he was at a lost for words. Then he rolled his eyes. "Compliments won't get you anywhere, Hood." 

"I was being nice." 

"Didn't realize you were capable of being nice." 

Tim's eye twitched. But the sense of discomfort in his stomach had vanished. Plus, the air definitely didn't feel as suffocating as before. "Excuse _you_ , I wasn't the one who showed up unannounced, and probably used up all the hot water - " 

_ 

He never even wanted to be Batman. Damian could have the mantle for all he cares. Dickie knew it. Jason knew it. Steph knew it. Hell, Jon knew it. So the only possible conclusions as to why he'd been left here to rot are: 

**a)** Damian really wanted him dead 

or 

**b)** he thought Tim's really gone off the deep end 

****

****

And okay, maybe he did, like, come back wrong after the whole thing with Ra's and the Lazarus Pit, but that doesn't give Damian the right to fucking dump him in Arkham, right? Right? 

Great. Now he's talking to himself. Maybe Damian did chuck him here for a reason other than the whole coming-back-wrong thing. But last Tim remembered, ~~his older brother~~ Damian knew the real reason why he was the way he was. So he can't have just handed Tim over to Arkham because he thought Tim finally snapped. 

Which rules out the second option. 

_And leaves us with the first._

Tim pressed his lips into a thin line. 

But...does Damian really want him dead, though? They were better now, weren't they? Damian killed the Joker for him, so it must mean he doesn't hate Tim anymore. Killing the Joker must've counted for something. Besides, it was Bruce who was so fucking sure the Pit fucked him up. It was Bruce who told him he _came back wrong_. But... Bruce was dead, and _he_ wasn't coming back, so does his opinion still matter? 

Crap, he should've probably listened to Ra's when the bastard offered him the chance of a lifetime. He should've said fuck it, and stayed at the League of Assassins. Became his right-hand man 'til Ra's gets bored of him. Which wouldn't be anytime soon. Doesn't sound so bad if he puts it that way. He could probably take the bastard in a fight by then. He'll already have centuries of experience in murder. 

Tim sighed, burying his face in his hands. 

The silence is killing him. And yeah, he had to chuckle at that. Come to think of it, Damian dumping him in Arkham because Tim "wanted" the Cowl doesn't make sense. He could easily escape. He'd done it before. Not in Arkham, obviously, but the League of Assassins. And the League's, like, a thousand times worse than Arkham, but he'd still got out because he wanted to be better than a - 

His eyes widened. 

Crap. _That's_ why he's here. 

He's trying to be better now, so of _course_ Arkham was necessary. It makes sense. He made Damian promise to lock him up in case the Pit's influence became too much to handle. He's trying to be better now. He promised himself he'd do better now. 

_But they had a choice. They could've dropped you off at a safehouse. Or Metropolis. In fact, a little birdie told me it's real nice this time of the year in the City of Tomorrow. They didn't have needed to trap you in a cold, dark cell. Then again, maybe you like it here. It's just like the...whatcha call it? Oh yes, your Batcave. After all, out of Batsy's little flock of birds, you're the one who's most like him -_

The faint click of the lock startled Tim back to reality. His breath caught in his throat. An intruder? In Arkham? In the dead of the night? Holy shit, maybe Ra's was coming to drag him back to the League of Assassins - 

No. He shook his head, forcing that particular thought out of his mind. No more thinking about Ra's. Someone just opened the door to his cell, for fuck's sake. And he's pretty sure it wasn't one of the guards. Slowly, very slowly, Tim reached for the knife hidden in his boot - 

"Oy." 

He straightened up, fingers wrapped around the grip of his knife. 

"Hood? Ya there?" 

He jerked his head at the direction of the voice. Male. Young. Nervous. Lower Gotham-accented. Familiar. 

"Hood?" 

He kept quiet. Strained his ears for the sound of heavy thudding against the linoleum floor. Bright light. Tim threw his free hand in front of his face. Squeezed his eyes shut. 

The footsteps stopped. Replaced by quick breathing, inches from the bed. "Hood." 

He loosened his hold on the knife. Lowered his arm. Opened his eyes. 

Jason smirked back at him, his signature black domino mask in place. A small flashlight dangled between his fingers. "Hey, Timmy. I'm gettin' you outta here."

_ 

He leaned back against the railing, glass of iced tea in hand. Despite the late hour, the activity in the Cave hadn't ceased at all. Sipping at his drink, he watched Cass, and Steph mingle with Kate near the foot of the dinosaur. Damian lingered beside the giant penny, Jon's arm around his shoulders while they conversed with Selina. Dick fluttered from family member to family member, never seeming to run out of energy. Not like Tim could blame him. He's the reason why Bruce held the mini-celebration, after all. Well, half the reason. As for the other half... 

He downed the iced tea in three quick gulps, and sauntered to the couch. "Hey, RR. Scoot over, wil you?" 

Jason raised his head from his phone to shoot him the finger, but he still scooted to the side. "If you say the damn catchphrase, I swear..." 

"You'll what?" Tim sat down beside him. "Throw burgers at me?" 

Jason shoved his shoulder. "You're the worst." 

"Sorry, not sorry," he said. "Out of curiosity, though, what made you choose it?" 

Jason rolled his eyes. "Gotta keep up with the bird theme. And also partly because of you. But you already know that, don't ya, World's Second Greatest Detective?" His teasing tone made Tim roll his eyes. "I mean, Dad might've trained me, and Dami will always be the best of us, but you?" Jason's voice grew soft. Wistful. "You're my first real hero. My Robin." Something suspiciously like warmth bloomed in Tim's chest. "So, yeah." Jason cleared his throat. He smirked at Tim. "That's why I chose the name." 

_

They landed on the doorstep. Conner slackened his grip around his waist. Tim stepped back to shoot him a grin. "Thanks, Kon." 

"No problem. Happy birthday again, man." His best friend gave a two-fingered salute, then zoomed off into the sky. Tim waited for him to disappear out of view, before reaching inside his pocket for his keys. 

The Outlaws had treated him to Italian for lunch - bruschetta, carbonara, lasagna, and a simple caprese salad at Cassie's apartment. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to be a bunch of normal college kids in Manhattan. 

He couldn't really say he regretted his current line of work. But sometimes, he wondered what would've happened if he hadn't annoyed Bruce hard enough to make him Robin. Maybe he'd be pursuing an economics degree in Dartmouth by now. And if he was particularly rebellious, he'd have been a film major in NYU - a route his mother definitely wouldn't have approved of. Or maybe she would, on the condition he'd graduate with flying colors. Janet Drake had always been a perfectionist. 

Contrary to what the others believed, Tim did remember some parts of his life before Ra's had dumped him in the Pit. Bits, and pieces returning through the years. Flashbacks, mostly. Of dinners with Bruce, and Alfred. The few compliments his dad gave him. His mother's advice on how to deal with the _vieux riche_. The times Damian hadn't been an ass to him at a gala. And... his early days as Robin. 

_"What's wrong with you? You weren't like this before."_

One specific memory stood out lately. 

The details were unclear, but he did know it involved, like, a hundred bucks. And Jason, weirdly enough. He also knew he'd knocked out one of Black Mask's goons while a wide-eyed Jason gawked at him, and - 

_Come to think of it, Jason _had_ been a cute kid. Severely malnourished, judging by the sunken cheeks, but cute, nonetheless. Tim remembered reaching inside his utility belt for the spare cash Bruce made him keep just in case, and pressing the bill - a hundred dollars, enough so Jason wouldn't go hungry for a week - into the kid's hand. "Here." _

_"But I... I can't keep this!"_

_Oh. He thinks he's pitying him. Okay, he is, but Tim wasn't gonna tell him that. "Why not? It's your reward for helping me out. The way you rushed out to punch the guy? Pretty cool." He leaned down to ruffle Jason's hair. "Now don't go looking for trouble again. Or call for Batman and Robin if you're _really_ in trouble." _

_He pulled out his grappling hook, and was about to leapt out of the window when Jason's shout stopped him. He turned his attention back to him._

_Jason looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't know how to phrase it. Tim waited patiently. "I - thanks for saving me! You're my hero!" And the kid's cheeks promptly turned red._

_Tim smiled. Sometimes, he forgot he actually was a hero to kids his own age. Younger, even. "No problem. Take care, okay?"_

_"You bet! See ya around, Rob!"_

_With one last wave, Tim watched Jason rush back to his apartment. He wondered if Bruce would say yes if he'd asked him to adopt Jason. But Jason said he still had his mom. And - oh yeah, Damian probably wouldn't want another kid at the Manor. Still, though. He bet it'd be less lonely if there was another kid around._

Funny how his wish ended up coming true. But with two additional kids instead of just Jason. Tim shook his head as he reached for the doorknob. Doesn't matter; he wouldn't trade Cass, and Dick for anyone else in the world - 

"Surprise! Happy birthday!" 

He froze, blinking at the sudden commotion. A bunch of familiar faces stared at him, all with party hats on their heads. And a cake at the very front. Bruce had a cake in his hands. 

What the hell. 

"Timmy!" Dick broke away from the crowd to throw his arms around his waist. Tim instinctively hugged him back. "I told them you wouldn't shoot us, and I was right!" 

"Yeah, Dickie," Tim said, but for some reason, his voice didn't feel like his voice. "You are." 

"Happy birthday, Timmy." Dick buried his face in his chest. "Thanks for being an awesome older brother." His voice sounded muffled against the fabric of Tim's shirt. "I helped Alfie bake the cake. It's chocolate. Hope you'll like it. Love you." He squeezed Tim's waist, before pulling away, and turning to the crowd. "Jay, it's your turn!" 

"Roger, Dickiebird." Jason stepped out from behind Steph. He grinned. "Hey, Timmy. Just wanna say thank you for letting me invade your apartment every Friday. And for being there for me whenever I feel like shit. We went a long way from you tryin' to kill me, huh?" He chuckled. "I don't wanna sound too sappy, but I'm really glad you're my brother. Happy birthday, dude."


	4. Chapter 4

Jon grunted as his body hit solid ground.

Rao, this wasn't part of the plan. Did the mugger even know the gun was magical? Yeah, he didn't think so. Then again, about half the villains they encountered on a nightly basis had no clue the second-hand products they bought from uBid and eBay were magical. 

Chuckling to himself, he got to his feet. He adjusted his glasses, and dusted off his jeans, and jacket. A quick pat told him he still had his wallet. His phone, too. Thank Rao the guy wasn't as competent as the rest of the thugs in Blüdhaven. Mugging them in broad daylight? Seriously. He shook his head, and straightened up to look around where he'd landed. 

No civilians in sight, but the magical gun appeared to have transported him behind a row of apartments. Run-down apartments, to be exact, so he could cross out the 'rich and affluent neighborhood' option on the list. Also, this doesn't look like anywhere in Blüdhaven, so he could cross that one from the list, too.

Where _was_ he? The last thing he remembered was the sudden blast of magic after the guy pulled the trigger. And where the heck was - 

His eyes widened. Damian. Shit. Damian had been with him when the mugger had jumped them. He tuned in his hearing to Damian's heartbeat, his own heart pounding in his ribcage - 

Gotcha. 

Jon felt himself relax as he managed to locate his boyfriend's heartbeat. Okay. Good. Damian was safe back in Blüdhaven. And since he still had some cash to spare, he could probably swing by Brenda's to grab Dami's favorite parfait. As a sorta-apology, because he was the one who insisted on taking a detour instead of their usual route home.

So, yeah. He'll swing by Brenda's, buy a parfait, and surprise Damian. He knew his boyfriend would appreciate it. Maybe he'd even be up to binge-watch the Netflix series Jason had recommended for them tonight. Jon fought a goofy smile at the thought. That'd definitely be awesome. 

_ 

The barista called out his name. He rose from his seat, pocketing his phone, and ambled towards the counter. 

"Thanks." He grinned at her as he reached for his order. He hadn't recognized her earlier - must be a new hire. Brenda did mention a lot of her employees had been quitting lately. "Tell Brenda I said hi." 

"Um, okay." She nodded. "Have a great day." 

"You, too." 

Chia berry parfait in hand, he stepped out of the café. The sunlight felt nice against his skin. He tilted his head to the side to listen to Dami's heartbeat - now somewhere near St Bernardine's, which was only a block away. Nice. 

Mindful of the drink he was holding, he opted for a slow walk towards St Bernardine's instead of jogging. Or flying, because once was enough, and he was lucky he hadn't been spotted by civilians when he landed behind Brenda's. 

He kept a close ear on Damian's heartbeat as St Bernardine's came into view. Jon ducked into the alley beside the church. Damian would be passing by in a few seconds. Sure enough, a moment later, the sound of footsteps reached his ears. 

He grinned to himself, and counted down the seconds in his head. 

_3... 2... 1 -_

"Dami!" Jon leapt forward to tackle his boyfriend into a one-armed hug. "Surprise! Rao, I knew the mugger wouldn't stand... a chance... against..." he trailed off. 

Kryptonite-green eyes glared at him, but the face looked _wrong_. Okay, not wrong because it's definitely still Dami - glare, heartbeat, and all - but he's somehow got...younger. Like, maybe about thirteen or fourteen year-old younger. Jon gaped at his boyfriend. "Babe, what the hell? What happened to you?!" 

" _...What_ did you call me?" 

_ 

After the initial panic, they ended up at Brenda's again. Jon explained everything on the way, with Damian taking his explanation (magical gun, different world, not his Jon) in stride. 

"Okay, so." He drummed his fingers on the table. "What you're saying is, Dick hasn't been Robin here for years, Jason doesn't live in the Manor, and I'm currently a member of the Legion of Superheroes." 

"Yes," Damian said. Rao, this _was_ the other world Conner mentioned. Where Dick was Nightwing, Tim was the CEO of WE, and Jason was a former drug lord. And he thought Tim was bad enough with his killing-spree. "And in your world, I'm the oldest of my siblings, you, and I reside in Blüdhaven as Nightwing and Flamebird, I've been a licensed vet for three years, while you've been a journalist for five." 

"Six years, actually." Jon sipped at his iced tea. "But yeah. Wait, I'll show you a picture." He pulled out his phone, and scrolled through his gallery. "There ya go." 

The photo he selected was the selfie he'd taken on his most recent visit to the clinic. It showed him, and Dami on the floor of the lobby. Jon had his arms full of the adorable Pomeranian due for her monthly check-up, while the Bengal cat he'd privately nicknamed Patches sat on his boyfriend's lap.

He glanced at Damian, waiting for his reaction. Damian's lips were pressed into a thin line - a thing his counterpart often did when he wanted to ask a question, but didn't know how to phrase it without coming off as rude. "How long have you and him been an item?" 

Jon had to hide a grin behind his drink. Guess some things never change, even in different worlds. "Five years. Been best friends for over a decade." 

"Makes sense," Damian said. "Though, when you accosted me, I thought you were my Jonathan, and he'd..." 

A multitude of scenarios ran through Jon's head at the sudden way Damian's face had darkened. "You thought he'd what?" 

That the Jon here was mind-controlled? That he was gonna kidnap Damian? 

Damian looked down at his parfait. "I thought he'd got himself aged up for a second time." 

Jon blinked. He did not expect the answer. He was aged up in this world? Not exactly the worst outcome, but it wasn't the best, either. In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have been surprised that something as huge as a sudden age-acceleration had happened to his counterpart. They were superheroes, for Rao's sake. They didn't lead normal lives. 

Still, he was unable to keep the shock from his voice when spluttering, "I was aged up here? _How_?" 

"Never mind." Damian sounded like he regretted ever saying anything. 

A stab of irritation squeezed at Jon's chest. 

"Babe, you know I won't understand what you mean if you wouldn't talk to me - " he started, before he realized what he was saying, and promptly snapped his mouth shut. (In his defense, it was a knee-jerk reaction whenever Dami was in one of his emotionally-constipated moods again.) 

But the damage had been done. 

Damian's gaze flickered back to him. "It doesn't matter if I tell you. You're not my Jon. You wouldn't understand." 

He wouldn't understand...? Jon blinked. Did Damian forget he was _still_ Jon? "Okay, D, look." He reached forward to grab Damian's hand, but managed to stop himself. Rao, he needed to get a grip. This wasn't his Dami. "I know... I know I'm not your Jon, but I still wanna help you with whatever you're going through. Because it's obvious you're going through something right now, and I wanna help. I'll help you. If you'll let me, I'll help you, okay?" 

"It's really better if you don't know," Damian said, voice dropping to a near-whisper. Jon would've missed it if it wasn't for his superhearing. 

"That bad, huh?"

Damian fell silent. For a split-second, he thought Damian wouldn't tell him - 

"...Richard has been shot." 

All the air seemed to leave Jon's lungs. "What?" 

"A bullet to the head. He currently has amnesia." 

_"What?!"_ Panic gripped at his chest. "Where is he? Is he okay? Have you talked to him?" 

"He's been discharged for a while." The panic faded. "But he doesn't want anything to do with - with the family." Damian tugged his jacket closer to himself. The action reminded Jon so painfully of Dickie that he had to stop himself from reaching over, and pulling Damian to a hug. "He also said we should stop bothering him because he isn't the Richard we know."

Rao, why was this world so messed up? First, Jason had died, and now Dick had amnesia? 

"I'm sorry, D," he said. "If I could do anything to help him regain his memories, I would."

Damian gave a low, sarcastic laugh. "You don't even know Richard here."

"Like that's gonna stop me," he retorted. Damian, and his counterpart here must be pretty close now, because ~~his boyfriend~~ the kid just rolled his eyes at the response. "Did you at least try to jog his memories?"

"There was no need to. Father said they'd come back to him eventually."

"He said that?" Jon was starting to dislike this world's Batman the more he heard about him. In _his_ world, Bruce would've contacted all magical, and medical specialists if any of his children lost their memories. 

Something heavy had lodged itself in his throat at the thought. Here was a Damian who was alone. If he could take him back with him, he'd do so in a heartbeat - no questions ask. 

(Okay, maybe there was the issue of everyone else's reaction, and Rip Hunter would probably never forgive him for messing with the timestream or whatever, plus there'd be two Damians running around in his world - ) 

But hey, if he couldn't take Damian back with him, then maybe he could just drop by this world's Gotham to scream at Batman instead. Yeah. Maybe he'd just do that instead. After he's helped Damian with the amnesia-issue, of course. 

Jon tapped his fingers on the table. "Okay, first off. Do Jason, and Tim know what happened to Dick?" 

"Yes, but Drake is currently with his Titans, and Todd's too busy running his criminal empire." 

Jon resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Seriously? Damian might as well have admitted his brothers were too busy for him. "Talk to them, D. They'll help you." 

Damian narrowed his eyes. "How would you know?" 

"Because if your Jason, and Tim are anything like the Jason, and Tim in my world, then they're definitely worried out of their minds for Dick; they just don't wanna show it," he explained. 

"They're not." 

Jon scrunched his eyebrows. "Sorry, what?" 

"They don't care, Jonathan." His heart sank at the certainty in Damian's voice - like he really believed his brothers didn't give a damn about Dick, and no amount of convincing would convince him otherwise. "Because if they did, they'd help me drag Richard back to the family." 

Oh, Rao. Why the _heck_ was this world so messed up again? 

All of a sudden, Damian's phone vibrated. Jon's eyes flickered to the table, just as Damian reached forward to pluck his phone out of sight. 

But Jon didn't need to have looked at the caller ID to know who called. "Do you want me to drop you off at the Manor? I still have enough for a cab. Or you could call Alfred to pick you up. Flying's easier, but it'd be too risky for us to - "

"No." Jon froze, taken aback at Damian's hostile demeanor. His Dami hadn't been hostile to him in years. "I don't want to go back to the Manor, Jon."

Jon chewed on his bottom lip. "Somewhere else, then?" he offered. "Or do you wanna stay here?"

Damian's fingers had tightened around the parfait. "Here." 

"Okay." An awkward silence descended upon them. Jon racked his brain for something to say.  
What did Dami like to do when he was fourteen? "Hey, um. Do you draw?" 

The tension in Damian's shoulders seemed to loosen at the question. "Sometimes. Mostly, I paint." 

"Realistic portraits?" 

"Urban landscape art." 

Jon's eyes widened. He leaned forward. "Really? Like, pictures of Gotham's skyline, that sorta thing?" 

"Yes." Damian nodded. "I'm assuming my counterpart specializes in realistic portraits?" 

"Yeah." He remembered Dami's drawings, which only got better through the years. Jon kept them all in the portfolio under his desk. Unfortunately, Dami had to stop because he was too busy with the clinic, but he still draws when inspiration strikes him. "Do you also have an Alfred here? Like, an Alfred the Cat?" 

"I do," Damian replied. The tension was noticeably gone from his shoulders now. "And Bat-Cow, Goliath, and Titus." He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Do you - " he stopped. 

Jon couldn't help the grin that quirked at the edges of his lips. In the back of his mind, he knew Damian wasn't really this timid; he supposed it was just a side-effect from the awkwardness of interacting with his ~~boyfriend~~ best friend from another world. "You can ask me anything, if you want."

Damian's forehead creased into a frown. "Are you sure it's alright?"

"I'm from a different timeline. Don't think there'd be any repercussions." 

"If you say so," Damian said. Then, "What are we like in your world? My...siblings and I, I mean. And you," he added, almost like it was an afterthought. 

Jon's grin widened. Rao, he'd forgot how freakin' cute Damian was when he was fourteen years old. "Okay. For starters, we're all awesome." Damian snorted. "What? It's true! You ran off to join me in Blüdhaven when you were eighteen, and the two of us have been Flamebird and Nightwing ever since!" 

"So I didn't establish the Teen Titans?" 

Jon scrunched his eyebrows. "The Teen Titans? Like, Jay's Teen Titans?" 

Realization dawned across Damian's face. "I see. I never needed a team in your world, not when my counterpart always had you." 

Warmth rose in Jon's cheeks at the way Damian had (probably unintentionally) phrased the sentence. "Um. Yeah. Thanks, I guess? So anyway, about the rest of your siblings… Let's see. I dunno what Tim's like here, but he's, like, the cool brother - Jay's words, not mine - in my world. Not that you weren't cool there, it's just... Jay's always had some sorta hero-worship for Tim 'cause he was his Robin, even if Tim absolutely hated him when he returned to Gotham after his… after the whole League of Assassins thing - " 

They ordered another round of desserts. A slice of spiced pumpkin cheesecake for Damian, and a cookies and cream milkshake for Jon. 

"…Steph's the first Batgirl. I'm guessing it's Cass here?" 

"Barbara, actually," Damian replied. 

Jon's eyebrows rose. "Who?" 

"Richard's…friend. She's Oracle now. Stephanie is the current Batgirl." 

"Oh." Jon made a mental note to ask Dickie if he knew a Barbara. "Should I continue?" 

Damian shoved the last of the cheesecake into his mouth. "Please." 

"Okay, so B didn't want Dickie to become Robin when he joined the family 'cause it was too dangerous. And I get it. Who in their right mind would let an untrained nine year-old out into the streets of Gotham? At _night_? So Dami agreed to train Dickie until he was ready to take over the mantle. And months later, Jay passed over Robin to him…" he trailed off as the sound of a phone vibrating reached his ears. "You should probably take that." 

With a scowl, Damian pulled out his phone. 

Jon forced himself to tune out Damian's conversation. Instead, he turned his attention to the streets. Looked at the civilians passing by the café. 

"Jon." He snapped his attention back to Damian. "I have to get back to the Manor. Father is getting…worried." 

"Oh. Um, okay. I'll drop you off." But his heart squeezed at the blank expression on Damian's face. "Y'know, I'm suprised Bruce hasn't put a tracker on you." 

"He did. It's in my watch, which I left in my room." 

Jon couldn't help it; he laughed. "You wouldn't be Damian Wayne if you'd let Batman track you that easily." 

Damian's blank expression flickered for a moment. "Will you be staying at your parents' afterwards? Or I suppose my counterpart in your world will pick you up soon enough." 

"Knowing Dami, he's rushed off to STAR labs as soon as he realized he couldn't locate me, so I'll probably be back in my world in an hour. Maybe less." 

"You make it sound like dimension-travelling's a normal occurence for you." 

"Not _that_ normal, but this isn't the first time it happened," Jon said. "Maybe about the fourth... or fifth time?" 

"Then shouldn't you have realized something's off the moment you were transported here?" Damian asked. But his tone wasn't disdainful. In fact, it sounded almost…teasing? "You already have enough experience with dimension-travel, don't you?" 

Jon pouted. "There was magic involved! You know I'm weak to magic!" 

"Fair enough." Damian stood up. Was it just Jon, or did Damian look like he was fighting back a smile? Wait, he _was_ fighting back a smile. Jon recognized that particular look on his face. "Let's go." 

_ 

Jon glanced at Damian from the corner of his eye. Damian had all but pressed himself to the door of the cab, the tension present in his shoulders again. 

"You can drop me off here," Damian suddenly said. Jon shot him a confused look. They were still a little way from the Manor. "Father will ask questions." 

Oh yeah, the cameras. Bruce will definitely be suspicious if someone who looked like Jon appeared on the security feed when he was supposed to be off-world. 

"You can drop us off here," Jon told the driver. He handed over the fare, and followed Damian out of the cab. "D, hey - " 

"Thank you," Damian blurted out. Jon didn't need to listen to his heartbeat to know he was being sincere. 

"No problem." He smiled at Damian. "Talk to your Jon, okay? And your family. They'll listen." 

Damian smiled back. A small smile, but a smile, nonetheless. "I will." 

"And stay safe," he said. 

"I will." 

"Bye, D." On instinct, Jon leaned forward to press a kiss to Damian's temple. His eyes widened, and he pulled away. Rao, he'd been too caught up in the moment - 

But Damian didn't seem freaked-out. Before Jon could apologize, Damian had wrapped his arms around his waist, gave him a brief squeeze, then let go. "Likewise. Good-bye, Jon." 

He didn't miss the subtle spring in Damian's step as he trudged towards the Manor. Jon smiled to himself. Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate. Absentmindedly, he fished it out of his pocket. His smile widened upon catching sight of the name on the screen. Just in time, too. "Hey, babe." 

"Beloved? I'm here in front of the Iceberg Lounge. Where are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

It was their third joint-patrol. In Metropolis, this time. 

Superboy was chattering non-stop, as usual. He kept trying to engage Damian in small talk - asking him about training, telling him about his week, the kids and teachers at his school, how he didn't expect balancing the cape business with civilian life to be difficult because Superman had always made it seem so exciting. Damian, frankly, didn't care. 

"…Robin, c'mon! I'm trying to be friendly here! I know you don't like joint-patrol either, but can you stop acting like a child for one night?" 

Damian rolled his eyes as he turned to look at the other hero. "You're not my mother." 

"I never said I was!" 

The hint of frustration in Superboy's voice made him smirk. "Then I suppose wouldn't be much of a problem if we part ways right now?" 

Superboy threw his hands in the air. "Batman assigned us on a joint-patrol for a reason! We can't just disobey him! D'you know how much trouble we'll be in if he finds out?!" 

"I don't care what Father thinks." 

Superboy's jaw went slack. "Dude, how can you say that? He's your father!" 

Damian arched a brow. He resisted the urge to sneer at Superboy. It wouldn't do him any good, and he'd never hear the end of it from Father if Superboy would tell on him. "And?" 

Superboy crossed his arms over his chest. "How old are you again?" 

Damian narrowed his eyes. How _dare_ he? How dare he talk him down like Damian wasn't worthy of his respect? He could murder this foolish, arrogant, self-proclaimed _Boy of Steel_ sixty-seven different ways without breaking a sweat. "I've had enough of this nonsense." 

"Robin, get back here!" 

In response, he seized five kryptonite-laced shurikens from inside his utility belt, and flung them in rapid succession over his shoulder. He slipped into the nearest alleyway, not looking back until he was sure Superboy had been distracted. 

"What's the mini-Bat doing in the streets of Metropolis?" 

"None of your business," Damian growled, pushing past the man. He did not have time for civilians wanting to strike up a conversation. 

A hand clapped his shoulder. "Not so fast, mini-Batman." 

His instincts kicked into overdrive. Without hesitating, he reached down to grab the man's leg, and pulled. With a yelp, the man tumbled to the ground. In one swift motion, Damian had drawn his katana, pointing the tip at the man's throat. "Give me three good reasons why I shouldn't kill you right now and scatter your insides across the street, you filthy, good-for-nothing, pathetic excuse of a - " 

But the light from the streetlamp threw the scar across the man's eyebrow into sharp relief. Damian's eyes widened in recognition. 

He mentally ran through the file he'd remembered reading from the Batcomputer. Austin Price was a twenty-seven year old male proven to be involved in one of Black Mask's numerous deals, but for some reason, had never been apprehended by the police. The file, however, hadn't stated exactly _how_ he'd managed to elude them. 

Didn't matter. He'd faced worse foes in the League, and emerged victorious. Even if Superboy wasn't here - 

Anger simmered in the bottom of his stomach at the mere thought of the Boy of Steel. Damian didn't need him. Superboy was only going to be a hindrance. He certainly didn't need his help turning Price over to the police. 

As if reading his mind, Price grinned up at him, showing off a mouthful of pearly-white teeth. "So you _do_ recognize me." He propped himself up on his elbows. "I'm flattered. You wanna know why those fuckers in blue could never catch me, mini-Bats?" Price's lips twisted into a smirk. Damian pressed the tip of his katana deeper against the column of his throat. "I'll let you in on a lil' secret." 

All of a sudden, the space behind Price began to twist. A wall of bullets - _real_ pistol bullets, Damian recognized - shimmered into reality. 

_Meta._

Damian tightened his grip around the hilt of his katana. Again, it didn't matter. He was Robin. He was the grandson of the Demon's Head. He was not going to be defeated by some low-class, lower-tier villain in the middle patrol. 

Price's brown eyes glinted. "I give you five seconds to run." 

Fury roared in his chest. How dare he assume Damian would turn scurry away like a coward? He shifted his weight to glare at Price. "Not if I end you first." 

Price clicked his tongue. "Not the brightest bulb in the box, are you?" 

The edges of Damian's gaze blurred red. Snarling, he raised his katana to skewer the pathetic excuse of a man - 

Pain exploded in his leg. He collapsed to his knees with a cry. 

Before he could force himself back to his feet, a familiar figure blinked to existence in front of him, shielding him from the onslaught of the bullets. 

Price's laugh echoed in the air. Damian screwed his eyes shut. "Oh my God. A mini-Superman? Surely you're not - " 

An ear-piercing shriek, followed by the _whoosh_ of a cape. Then warm hands helping him up. Calloused fingers running through his hair. The smell of sweat mixed with the faint scent of fabric conditioner tickling his nose. "Seriously, what the flippin' heck did you run off for?" 

It took him about three seconds to realize Superboy had lifted him off the ground. Was craddling him in his arms like Damian was some scared, helpless civilian, and not Robin. He forced himself to open his eyes. Ignored the sharp pain in the side of his leg to level a glare at Superboy, even as his vision began to swim, because he's had worse than this. He's Robin. An al Ghul. It would take more than a few bullets to the leg in the field to take him down. "Don't need you to…watch over me. I'm...more experienced than you. Had years of training compared to your...sheltered childhood..." 

"Doesn't mean you have the right to throw yourself at the bad guy without telling me! I thought we were supposed to be a team?" 

The pain rocketed ten-fold, forcing Damian to grit his teeth. And Superboy's lecture was. Not. Helping. "I'm... sorry," he rasped. "Won't...do it...again." 

Anything to stop the Superboy from talking. 

Superboy pressed his lips into a thin line. "Fine. Apology accepted. Now, let's get you cleaned up, else Batman's gonna kill me - " 

Damian tuned out Superboy's babbling in favor of leaning into the warmth. He let his eyes fall shut again, only half-aware of Superboy adjusting his grip to make him more comfortable. And it might be the pain talking, but maybe, just maybe, future patrols together wouldn't be so bad after all. 

_ 

The gravity of the situation didn't really hit him until he found himself staring at the ceiling of his room, the haunted look on the civilian's face as the light left her eyes searing itself earlier in his mind. He sat up, grabbed his phone from his bedside table, and dialed Jon's number. He bit the inside of his cheek while he waited for Jon to pick up. 

Jon picked up on the third ring. "Hey, D. I was just about to fly over." 

His heart immediately leapt to his throat at the sound of Jon's voice, but he pushed it down in favor of snapping, "I'm fine." 

He heard Jon snort from the other end of the line. "Your heartbeat says otherwise." 

And as much as Damian wanted to tell him that listening to other people's heartbeats is _rude_ , haven't they been over it already, a part of him still preened, pleased at Jon's concern. Damian shook his head. He had more important matters to worry about other than the stupid... affection he's been harboring for his best friend. 

(It's not a crush, no matter what Alfred said. Crushes were silly. They're for children. Damian was above such things. The stupid affection had only started because Jon looked...nice nowadays. Nicer than he'd looked like when he was younger, at least. But it would pass. 

It _had_ to.

Because Damian would be a fool if he'd ever expect Jon to feel anything more than platonic friendship towards him. He had seen enough movies to know nothing good would ever come out of carrying a torch for your best friend. For God's sake, he didn't even know if Jon liked boys. So, yes, the stupid affection Damian had been harboring for his best friend would have to go.) 

"Father benched me for three days." 

"Can't say you didn't expect it. I mean, I'd watch your back even if he didn't bench you, but I'm pretty sure there wouldn't have been any point because you'd collapse during patrol anyway." 

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt. It's just a gash. Alfred had fixed me up an hour ago." 

He could almost see Jon throw his hands in the air as he exclaimed, "It's just a - Dami, what the freakin' hell?! The knife pierced your ribs!" 

" _Almost_ pierced me," he corrected. "You act like I've never sustained injuries in the field before. Besides, it was an accident. She was hardly a formidable fighter. I doubt she even knew how to wield a knife properly. You know, my grandfather forced me to finish off loads of people like her when I was six - " he stopped, the blood draining from his face. 

Jon's breath had hitched. "Dames..." 

He clenched his jaw. _Act like it didn't happen._ "You're lucky you didn't get a scratch. Not everyone is bulletproof like you." 

"It's not your fault." 

He squeezed his eyes shut, a half-mind to just disconnect the call, and force himself to go to sleep. Except Jon would most definitely show up if he did that. With a quiet growl, he opened his eyes. "Is it, Kent?" 

They don't talk about this. They haven't talked about this save for the one instance Damian had been high off the painkillers Alfred had administered, and blurted out that he'd murdered hundreds before Jon could even learn how to fly. It was two years ago. Neither of them had brought it up ever since. He supposed it was only a matter of time before Jon wanted to talk about it, though. And Damian couldn't ignore it forever. He couldn't shove it in the back of his mind, or pretend it never happened. Not like his father often did. 

Jon said it wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy to keep your emotions bottled up, and hope for the best. Because it will backfire on you. Damian didn't know where his best friend had learned these things (likely a byproduct from being raised by Superman and Lois Lane), but he's learned not to question it. He's long since accepted the fact that Jon would always be more well-versed in subjects such as emotions, and keeping friendships between the two of them. 

"It's not your fault, D," Jon repeated. "It's not, okay?" 

The conviction in his tone made Damian's blood boil. (Except when it's like this. Because Jon didn't understand. He might be sixteen years old, and he's seen things in the field, but he was still painstakingly naïve in other matters. Matters such as, it turned out, accepting the fact that his best friend had killed people. Didn't he understand the gravity of the situation?) "Then please explain how it could possibly _not_ be my fault for killing them when they were innocent." 

Jon was silent for a moment. "Do you regret it?" 

He gave a self-depricating laugh. "What do you think?" 

"Because you shouldn't blame yourself if you regretted killing them. You only did it to survive. What's important is you've stopped, D. In fact, you're not like what you were before when you were younger, ain't you? Which means you're a better person now." 

Damian's free hand drifted to his side. He let his fingers skim over the gauze. Jon's words echoed in his ears. _What's important is you've stopped. In fact, you're not like what you were before when you were younger, right? Which means you're a better person now._

_You're a better person now._

An unfamiliar feeling blossomed in his chest, making the edges of his lips tug into a smile. It was reminiscent of the warmth he got when Father praised him for solving a particularly difficult case, or when Alfred had complimented him on the sheen of Titus' fur after Damian had brushed it. 

"D? You still there?" 

"Yes." He loosened his grip on the phone, hoping his best friend hadn't picked up on the sudden spike in his heartbeat. "Thank you, Jon. I needed to... It's what I needed to hear." 

"No problem, Dames." 

He didn't need to be the World's Greatest Detective to know Jon was also smiling on the other end of the line. 

_ 

While he, and his father weren't actively speaking, it didn't mean Damian could shirk on his duties as the Wayne heir. Though he had a sinking feeling he wouldn't be the only heir for much longer, if the way his father continued to treat the usurper was anything to go by. 

Speaking of the devil... 

Damian narrowed his eyes as Timothy emerged from the crowd. Good grief. They haven't even been here for an hour yet, and he was already looking like he'd been accosted by a bunch of heiresses. Then again, maybe it wasn't a particularly false notion. Not with the way he kept glancing over his shoulder like a skittish kitten. "Timothy." 

At the mention of his name, the usurper's head whipped up so fast, Damian was almost surprised he didn't get whiplash. "Damian - " he squeaked. 

Damian levelled him a look. The usurper's previously slicked-back hair stuck out in various directions. Alfred will not be pleased. "Calm down. It would do you no good if you keep on acting like you've got Black Mask coming after you." 

Timothy snapped his mouth shut, but he continued to look up at him like he couldn't believe Damian had actually addressed him. "Uh. Where's Jon?" 

Damian took a sip of his champagne. He let his gaze flicker around the hall, coming to a rest on Father, who flittered from guest to guest, a flute of wine in hand. "He's around." 

"But aren't you..." Timothy trailed off. Damian glanced at him. The usurper swallowed, and ducked his head in - embarrassment? Strange. What on earth would the usurper be embarrassed about? He was sure Timothy's hero-worship phase had fizzled from existence the day Damian had confronted him about stealing his mantle, and place in the family about a year or so ago. Timothy chewed on his bottom lip. "I mean, you're... you're..." 

"Spit it out." 

"How long have you, and him been boyfriends?" he blurted out. 

"Excuse me?" Damian asked sharply. 

Timothy flinched. 

Fuck. Maybe Jon was right, and he was being a little too hard on him. It wasn't the usurper's fault his parents died, and that Bruce thought it'd be a good idea to take him in. Damian resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Jon, and I aren't a couple." 

Timothy's eyes widened. "What? But you two - you're always - " 

"We're not." 

The usurper fell silent. He fiddled with the cufflinks of his dress shirt. "You should tell him." The determination in his voice made Damian pause. "He likes you, too. I know he does. But if both of you won't make a move, then nothing would happen." 

Damian blinked in surprise. Huh. Who would've thought the usurper would be perceptive for his age? And...perhaps, he did have a point. Much as Damian loathe to admit it. Nothing would happen if neither of them took action. "I've a feeling you might be on to something, Timothy." 

The usurper's mouth fell open. He stared at him with what an expression disturbingly similar to the - what did Jon call it again? Shocked Pikachu face? Or something like that. 

Either way, Damian had to admit it was a nice... change from the blabber, and awkward attempts at talking he'd usually get when being forced to spend time around the usurper. He drained his champage, and deposited the glass on a tray. Maybe he should make an effort to get to know the boy. He didn't seem as bad as he initially made him out to be. 

He spotted Jon in a conversation with a dark-haired girl in a purple cocktail dress. Further inspection had him recognizing her as L.L Houston, a socialite around Jon's age. Something ugly reared itself in the pit of his stomach as Houston leaned forward to place a manicured hand on Jon's arm. 

Before he knew it, his legs have moved on their own accord, and he was walking towards them. "Hello, Miss Houston. May I borrow my boyfriend for a moment?" 

The girl's jaw went slack. "Oh! I'm sorry. I thought he was - " 

"No worries," Damian said smoothly. 

He wasn't the child he'd been years ago anymore. If there's anything he learned from his time at the League, it's that if you truly want something, then you should do everything in your power to get it. So, he gave her a polite smile, and wrapped an arm around Jon's waist to lead him towards the chocolate fountain. 

"Boyfriend?" Jon hissed once they were out of earshot. 

Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he pressed a dessert plate to Jon's hands. "I assume you felt the same?" 

The tips of Jon's ears went pink. 

In Damian's opinion, the conversation had been long overdue. They'd tiptoed around each other long enough that even Timothy, who'd only met them twice, thought they were together. Damian couldn't blame him; Jon was like an open book. He wore his heart on his sleeve, never bothering to hide his feelings. Not that he tried to, around Damian. And Damian... he supposed Alfred was right, and he was going soft from all the years he'd spent with Jon. But it didn't seem too bad. 

Fighting a smile at the thought, he watched his best friend busy himself with laddling a small pile of strawberries, cheesecake bites, gingerbread cookies, and blackberries into his plate. 

Minutes later, Jon turned his attention back to him. A flush had crept into his cheeks. "Okay, fine. I _do_ feel the same, but..." 

"But?" 

"I've never really pictured my confession to be somethin' like this," he admitted, lips curving into a sheepish grin. 

Damian arched a brow. "What did you have in mind?" 

"I'd take you out for dinner. Then I'd tell you I've liked you since I was sixteen when the waiter would serve us dessert." 

This time, Damian really did roll his eyes. But it was fond, because he shouldn't have expected anything else since Jon had always been a hopeless romantic. "Technically, we are having dessert right now." 

"Oh, yeah. We are, ain't we?" The tension seemed to fade from Jon's posture at the realization. "Guess this is close enough, huh?" 

"It is," he affirmed. He caught Timothy's eye from over Jon's shoulder, and smirked. 

_ 

"The robots?" 

He didn't turn around at the voice, but he still slowed down, and waited for Jon to fall into step beside him before answering with a curt, "Dead." 

"Jason, and Dick?" 

"At the Manor. I let Jason off early. To keep Richard company." 

Jon hummed under his breath. "Okay. What about Tim?" 

"Still on that damn mission." He didn't mean for it to come out so bitter than it did, but the fact Timothy left the morning after the funeral, and didn't even bother to say good-bye to Jason, and Richard made a sour taste linger in his mouth. Did Timothy really hate him that much that he couldn't bear to remain in the Manor for two days? And Damian thought they were long past the grudges. 

"D, hey. Stop. You're doin' that face again." 

Irritation surged in his chest. "What face?" he snapped. 

"The do-people-really-hate-me-or-do-I-just-suck-at-emotions face," Jon replied, without missing a beat. "I know you're doin' it even if I can't see it. Which reminds me, take off your cowl? I really wanna see your face." 

Damian ignored the warmth crawling up his neck in favor of scowling at Jon. "We're in the middle of patrol." 

His beloved held up his hands in mock-surrender. "Okay, I know you're stressed, and I can't blame you, but maybe some food'll cheer you up?" 

"I don't - " Damian broke off at the look in Jon's eyes. _Damn_ him for being so weak to those eyes. "Fine." 

He let Jon lead him to the convenience store near the corner, half-listening to Jon chatter about his case like he hadn't told Damian about the majority of it. 

"…gonna lose my mind if it turns out he ain't one of the masterminds behind the drug ring," Jon said, grabbing the cup of slushie, along with a cup of organic soy yogurt from the shelves. 

"That'll be seven bucks." The cashier, who looked to be about Jason's age, didn't even blink at the sight of Flamebird depositing a bunch of items on the counter despite the prevalent no-meta rule in Gotham. 

Damian's just grateful she didn't ask questions as he pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his utility belt. 

The cashier spared him a long look, before shaking her head. "Must be nice to have lotsa cash." 

"College?" Jon asked in a sympathetic voice. 

The cashier nodded. Her complexion seemed even more waxy under the bright lights. Damian glanced at her nametag - Keira - and made a mental note to hand out an additional thirty-five grants the next semester. "Gotham U's a bitch. Or hell. Please kill me now." 

Jon let out a laugh. "Guess it hasn't changed the last time I went there." 

The cashier's eyes widened. "You went to Gotham U?" 

"Sure did." 

Keira looked more alert now. "For real? What'd you take?" 

Jon rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Ah, I don't think tellin' you 'bout my major would be a great idea..." 

Damian gave a fond eye-roll at his beloved's obvious embarrassment. "Flamebird." 

"I get it," the cashier - Keira - said. She still had that look of poorly-concealed awe on her face. "Just - I thought you'd be a Blüd native for sure..." 

After he'd received his change, they made their way out back into the dimly-lit street of Gotham. 

They walked down the street in comfortable silence. Every once in a while, Damian would glance at his beloved, whose attention seemed to be fixated on his slushie. "I don't think dropping by the campus to visit me does not equal 'going' to Gotham U." 

"…I know." Jon gave a lopsided smile. "Just wanted to make her smile." With a wink, he threw his empty cup over Damian's head. Damian didn't need to turn around to know the plastic cup had landed inside the trash can; the soft _plunk_ confirmed it. "Poor girl's practically dead inside, if ya know what I mean." 

"College does that to you, I heard." Damian spooned the last of the yogurt into his mouth. He reveled in the sound of Jon's laugh, even at his poor attempt at a joke. One of the things he always loved about his beloved is that Jon never seemed to find his twisted sense of humor awful - even if everyone else did. Comes with a decade of being best friends, he supposed. 

"I _really_ don't wanna reminisce 'bout my college days, but if there's one thing I picked up at Met U is that you gotta learn how to live a little." 

Damian arched a brow. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this was leading to. As if to prove his point, Jon moved closer until their shoulders were touching, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him to his side. Damian resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Flamebird. Somebody's going to see." 

Jon merely cooed in response. As expected. "It's midnight, babe. Pull back your cowl! Live a little!" 

Damian stared at him. 

Jon, to his credit, didn't even flinch. "C'mon." Those blue eyes twinkled. "Please?" 

Why was his life like this? He was Damian Wayne, dammit. Son of Batman, former Robin, Nightwing, and currently Batman. Why the _fuck_ was he so weak to those eyes? He hoped Jon would never dare teach Richard to use that technique, because God only knows how the world would be able to handle it. With a long-suffering sigh, he reached up to pull back his cowl. "Happy?" 

"With you? Always, babe." A warm flush rose to the back of Damian's neck. Dammit. How could his beloved be so cheesy? He could say things like these, make him weak in the knees with a few choice words. "I love you so much, y'know that?" 

His breath caught in his throat. He watched, transfixed, as his beloved cupped his face with his free hand, and began to trace circles on his cheek with the pad of his thumb. They've said those words to each other a thousand times before, but even now, it still didn't fail to make something suspiciously like warmth pool in the bottom of his stomach. "I... I love you, too, Jonathan."

_ 

_"Shit."_

And just like that, the end credits began to roll.

"Rao, I can't believe..." 

He leaned away from the comfort of Jon's shoulder to shoot a fond look at his beloved. As if his attention was the catalyst, Jon launched into an excited ramble about the last episode, and the whole show in general, about why they didn't think of watching it sooner, and _Rao, remind me to thank Jay for recommending it to us. But do we really have to wait another year for Season 3 to come out? I don't think I can wait that long!_

(Damian privately agreed with him, taking in the wild enthusiasm in those blue, blue eyes, the animated hand gestures he makes as he insists that, if Five were real, he would definitely be impressed by Damian because _D, babe, you're basically like him but just human, which is even more badass..._ )

" - dunno if I could take him alone, though. I mean, he _is_ one of the best assassins, right? And he can also rewind time. Maybe if the two of us teamed up? Yep, we could definitely do it if the two of us teamed up - " 

"Marry me." 

The grin slid from Jon's face. "What?" 

Damian could only stare back at him in surprise. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach, which he quickly pushed down. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not at all. Certainly not right now. He had planned to propose next week. After Sunday brunch at the Manor. With the speech Richard, and Jason helped him write. 

It wasn't supposed to be sudden like this. 

But Jon... well, he supposed he had always been reckless when it came to Jon. So Damian took a deep breath, and reached for his beloved's hand. 

"Jonathan..." he began. Jon remained frozen, blue eyes wide. Damian resisted the urge to bite the inside of his cheek. "I know... I know this is sudden, but..." he trailed off. What was the rest of the speech again? 

Oh, screw it. No matter what Jason said, he didn't need a five-minute speech to propose. Five seconds was more than enough. 

Damian cleared his throat. "Jonathan Samuel Lane-Kent, for as long as we have known each other, you have always been the sun in my universe. You helped me grow into a better person. _Made_ me be a better person. I would not be who I am today without you, and I will forever be thankful for that." 

The last part seemed to snap Jon out of his daze. His eyes started to water. "Dames..." 

Damian's heart fluttered. Biting back a grin, he ran his thumb across Jon's knuckles. "So. Will you marry me, beloved?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase _you have always been the sun in my universe_ is based on a line from Mêlée's song Built to Last.
> 
> Damian, and Jon definitely had two weddings afterwards. The first was dubbed as Gotham's Wedding of the Decade, and was sponsored entirely by Bruce. The second wedding was a private ceremony held at Hamilton, where ten year-old Dick accidentally caught the bouquet, then proceeded to ask Wally West out with it. Bruce nearly had an aneurysm right then and there because he'd rather die than let two of his children get married in one night, you hear me? Clark just laughs, and hands his best friend another glass of wine.


End file.
